


Fire and Death

by Feygan



Series: F&D [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Harsh Language, M/M, Story request, Violence, disturbing imagery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 12:17:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3326957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feygan/pseuds/Feygan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The twins play a prank on Percy with disastrous results. Percy/Oliver.</p><p>
  <i>He took another swallow, then blinked, and blinked, then twitched and fell from his chair clutching his throat.  Tears flooded his eyes and his body began to convulse violently.  His heels drummed the floor as his eyeballs rolled back in his head, a thick froth bubbling from his lips.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>To him it felt as if a thousand lights had been switched on behind his eyes, each getting brighter and brighter until it was a wonder he didn't burn up.  Finally, just as the light was so bright he was writhing in pain, everything disappeared.  Blackness burst inside him and he fell away forever. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I received a very long and thoughtful letter requesting that I continue this story. It's a bit more dramatic than I remember, with plenty of descriptors and run-on sentences, but I feel the need to answer my fan with a continuation and completion of a story that they loved. This one's for you, Sarsha.
> 
> I'm posting the old stuff first, will be adding the new as I go along. Hopefully I manage to finish something *fingers crossed*

Crimson shades of the yesterday soul in the melonberry pool of broken hearts

screaming mouths blazing into the ash-shod winter paradise of the boredom-induced Dreaming.

Yowling with the fury of a thousand freed vengeances in the well of melting flesh,

rippling tides of underbelly pining, wanting things never to be had.

Gashes torn into the bruised flesh of mistaken identities

branded forever a liar by those that should furnish truth

to bleed out into nothingness--unwanted by anyone .

 

The light of candles glowed from their perch overhead, causing reflections off the silverware. The nighttime sky was dark blue with shades of purple tracing across the clouds that hovered over Hogwarts, the rich inkiness hiding the view of the stars.

The voices of the children were subdued and there was very little laughter. Every once and awhile a child would burst into tears, but they were studiously ignored, no one wanting to bring attention to their show of weakness. Too many lives had been lost either in battle or from the peripherals of the War, and even some of the survivors weren't really living, they were just existing. It could have been any one of them sobbing their heart out.

Percy Weasley had graduated four years before, but had been called back to help strengthen the protections on Hogwarts and train an advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts level attended by returning graduates. He had been happy to come because he knew that his younger siblings needed protection and he didn't know if he trusted anyone else to provide it. And helping with the training was a part of his duty that he would never have even thought to turn his back on, no matter how hard everything had gotten.

Back in the "good old days" he could pretend that Voldemort's being alive wasn't real. He had ended up treating his father like he was a fool, but at least he had been able to believe that everything was going to be all right, that his family was going to live. Everyone had thought he was a terrible horse's arse, but he remembered the terrible dark days of the first rise of Voldemort--the hiding and the bone-biting fear. He hadn't wanted the nightmare to be true, more for his brothers and sister than for himself, so he had pretended that life was still good.

Sometimes he wished that things could go back to how they used to be. It wouldn't be so bad to still be working in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. The job had been boring as hell, but at least he hadn't had to fear for the lives of his family every single day. Sure, there was a good chance the twins would blow themselves up, or that Ron would pull some idiotic stunt and get himself killed, but dark wizards wouldn't have been a part of it all. Percy would only have had to worry about them dying, not that their very souls would be taken from them, to leave them alive but withered inside where it counted, slowly fading away with the light in their eyes, taking the hope of the people around them with them.

Now he had more responsibility and power than he had ever dreamed of. He was fulfilling a valuable function in wizarding society, guarding and training the next generation of Defenders Against the Dark. But the very fact that Defenders were needed at all made him want to close his eyes and never wake up. The world was turning into a dark place and he didn't know when it was going to stop.

In the old days the power he held would have been all that he would have been able to see. He had been an ambitious little git, dreaming about finally getting respect from everyone around him so that he wouldn't have to talk up his own accomplishments until they lost all meaning. Now, finally having everything he had always thought he had wanted, he just wanted to give it all back and let someone else be in charge. But there was no one he trusted with the lives of the people he loved. Sometimes he didn't even trust himself.

He was seated at the High Table picking at his dinner, his eyes lowered so he didn't have to see anyone else. He had the feeling that everything was about to go bad again, and he didn't know why. The feeling had been growing in him for hours, becoming stronger and stronger with each minute that passed. It made his heart flutter in his chest. A hard knot was beginning to grow in his throat.

As usual, no one seemed interested in talking to him, so he was allowed to sink into his thoughts peacefully. For the first time in his life he was grateful to be completely ignored by the people around him--it meant that his fears belonged to him alone and nobody else had to care.

Dread was filling him and he didn't know what was going to happen, but he was afraid for his family. They were all he had in his life and he would do anything to keep them safe, no matter the danger to himself. And from what he was feeling, he knew he was going to have to make a dangerous choice, one that he probably wasn't going to survive.

He might not have been the best at Divination, but he could read the signs and portents. And the years since leaving Hogwarts had taught him to trust his instincts when it came to approaching danger. Those gut feelings had saved his life and the lives of people depending on him quite a few times.

He poked at a mound of broiled rough chopped potatoes with a sprinkling of salt and pepper decorating their surface. His dinner was about as appealing as unnecessary surgery. His fears wouldn't let him eat.

* * *

Fred muffled a giggle against his sleeve as he watched George creep up behind Percy. No one else could see him because of the Invisibility Potion, but Fred had used the Clear Vision drops on his eyes so he saw George as a ripple of motion moving across the room.

Pulling his wand out of his sleeve, Fred covertly gave it a flick and whispered the spell he had readied. It was a small charm, but sneaking it past the layers of Percy's defenses was the hard part. Percy was surrounded by so many shields that it was a wonder he didn't hover a foot off his chair.

Percy suddenly twitched and sneezed, grabbing his handkerchief to swipe his nose. When he moved, George slipped in next to him and dumped the potion into his cup, the sound of the sneeze covering any noise he might have made.

Fred slipped his wand back into his sleeve pocket and went back to eating his dinner. No one had noticed a thing.

A couple of minutes later George returned to his seat after his "bathroom" trip. "Mission accomplished," he whispered into Fred's ear, flicking his tongue moistly.

Fred shivered and gasped delightedly. "Eat your dinner. I want to enjoy the fun when it starts. We can have our own party later--after Percy entertains us."

The twins shared a hot glance, both thinking about what they were going to do later, and hurriedly began eating, shoveling in their food. Neither wanted to miss the show when Percy drank from his cup and the potion took effect.

* * *

Though he hadn't been able to eat more than a mouthful, Percy had been drinking cup after cup of frothy Green Goose Juice since dinner had started. The tangy taste was one of his favorites and it always lightened his mood a little, no matter how bad things got. For a long time, it had been his only comfort, which had to be some kind of pathetic. The War was getting to him.

Holding his floppy right sleeve with his left hand, he lifted his cup and took a large swallow, not noticing anything wrong until it was too late.

He took another swallow, then blinked, and blinked, then twitched and fell from his chair clutching his throat. Tears flooded his eyes and his body began to convulse violently. His heels drummed the floor as his eyeballs rolled back in his head, a thick froth bubbling from his lips.

To him it felt as if a thousand lights had been switched on behind his eyes, each getting brighter and brighter until it was a wonder he didn't burn up. Finally, just as the light was so bright he was writhing in pain, everything disappeared. Blackness burst inside him and he fell away forever.

* * *

Voices were raised in panicked confusion and Dumbledore rose to his feet to check on Percy, but Snape got their first.

The Potion's Master might not have liked Gryffindors, even ones that had graduated, but that wouldn't stop him from caring for the well-being of one of his students or fellow faculty members. It was a point of pride with him that no one had died on his watch... though a couple had under the responsibility of his colleagues. But that was not his concern. He was here now.

Snape fell to his knees next to Percy's convulsing body and reached out a hand only to snatch it back about an inch from Percy's skin. Even without touching the boy, his hand was reddening and beginning to blister.

"What is going on here?" he demanded, waving his wand at his hand and saying a quick healing spell. The pain disappeared.

Dumbledore came to kneel beside him, sweeping his robes out of his way. "I do not understand what is happening. He is surrounded by an energy field of some kind, and it seems to be originating from within his own body. He is doing this to himself, but I don't understand how or why."

Untangling herself from the tablecloth, Poppy hurried over to them, panting lightly. "I have never seen anything like this. Has a curse been laid on him?" She glanced at Snape. He would know.

Snape shook his head. "It doesn't appear to be a curse, or at the very least not of any kind that I've ever seen before. But if Voldemort or one of his agents could get in here, why would they focus on Percy? He is nothing but a middling fair wizard, though he is quite talented in controlling the power he's got. Just because he's helping in the Defense Against the Dark Arts training wouldn't be enough to attack him. Dumbledore was right here."

"It... it wasn't supposed to be like this. Is he all right?" a little voice asked.

They all looked at the Weasley twins, wrapped up in each other's arms and looking terrified. At the moment they didn't look their nineteen years, but like children caught in the wrong.

"What have you done?" Snape demanded, glaring at the boys.

Green sweatered Fred bit his lip. "We made it ourselves. It was just supposed to be a little half-hour Aging Potion. He would have just suddenly become fifty years older. When the potion ran out he would just go back to being himself--no harm, no foul."

"He wasn't supposed to get hurt or anything," George added, tears gleaming in his eyes. "Is he all right? What's happening to him?"

A yellow haze began to rise from Percy's body. They all stumbled backward as it thickened and began to pulsate outward, surrounding him completely. As he disappeared from view, Snape could almost have sworn that Percy's eyes snapped open, the terrified orbs rolling wildly toward him as they disappeared.

* * *

Hunger churned in his belly, but he did not bother to hunt, just ignored the growing feeling. Food was for the weak, and he was not weak.

Hunched over the small flickering fire he stared into the depths, watching the Enemy in the lonely remnants of his throne room. A grim smile tugged at his lips.

All the stolen splendor the Enemy had surrounded himself with was gone. He was scrabbling in the muck alone, his followers dead and his magic weakened by the long war. The victory he had been assured was nothing but ashes.

In an empty world, only the Hero and the Enemy were left. The drawn out battles and the immoral acts that both had committed, one for power and the other for the Greater Good, had destroyed everything either one had ever wanted to have. There was no empire to rule, and no peaceful life to live. All they had was each other, and soon there would only be one left.

A whisper of sound and the Hero was on his feet, his head moving back and forth as he looked around, trying to find the source of possible attack. The Enemy had looked peaceful, but maybe that was just another ruse, one that he had almost fallen for.

Gathering magic around him in a crackle of trapped lightning, he prepared himself for what was to come. His fingers twitched and he bared his teeth defiantly.

The yellow light that engulfed him was completely unfamiliar, but he struck back, magic lashing out in deadly waves. The light ignored him, just swallowed him up.

He wailed his anger and frustration as it sucked him in and he disappeared.


	2. Chapter Two

The hard shell that had grown over Percy suddenly cracked and fell away, the zig-zagged shaped edges oddly smooth, gleaming with an eerie shine.

At Dumbledore's order, the Great Hall had been cleared out since they had been unable to move Percy. The only ones left were Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Snape, Madam Pompfrey, and the guilty-faced Weasley twins. The rest of the staff had accompanied the students, though Hooch had managed to get a promise out of McGonagall that she'd be fully informed of whatever went on. Flitwick had looked like he was going to faint, so it was a relief to just have him out of the way, and keeping students out of trouble gave him the sense that he was being useful.

"What happened to him?" Fred demanded, his voice cracking. His eyes were about three times their size and he was unashamedly clutching George's hand.

When Percy had fallen from his chair he had been dressed in a neatly pressed dark blue robe and his hair had been freshly clipped the week before. Now he was dressed in ragged old trousers and a matching long sleeved shirt that might once have been black, but had been worn thin and grey by time and use. His feet were bare and dirty, perfect pink soles shining through the dirt. He was filthy and his hair fell around his shoulders in a tousled mess that wasn't quite a single tangle.

"I've never seen him so dirty," George whispered.

Snape dared to once again reach out his hand. This time there was no flash of pain and burning flesh. He laid his hand on Percy's forehead, carefully swiping back the hair so he could press his palm flat against the boy's skin. "He's a little warm, but I don't sense anything wrong with him other than the fact that he is suddenly filthy and has abnormally long hair for Mr. Weasley."

Percy suddenly moaned, a strange guttural sound that was almost feral in its intensity. His eyelids twitched and lifted to reveal eyes that blazed. There was very little sanity in them.

With a suddenness no one was expecting, he rolled and was on his feet, his knees a little bent and his fingers curled into claws, ready to attack anyone that got too close.

* * *

He didn't know what spell the Enemy had worked, but he was prepared for anything. The moment before his eyes snapped open, he had instinctively gathered power around him in a crackle of energy beneath his skin. All he needed was a target to lash out at.

"Percy?"

He looked at the one that had spoken, the cruel illusion wearing the face of one of his dead brothers. His lips drew back from his teeth in a snarl of rage. The Enemy dared to bring up such a view?

"I'll crush you," he growled, his voice raspy from disuse. He glared at the figure that looked remarkably like Fred, then dragged his eyes over the others, all of those he had loved and watched die. "This is going too far. I will kill you."

"Please Percy, what's happening? Why are you dressed like that? What happened to you?" George asked, taking a step toward him. It was a mistake.

Without hesitation, Percy struck out with a Killing Curse. A blast of blue laced white lightning was sent crackling through the air, burning from the tips of his fingers. The air rippled and wove around the power of the Curse and there were split shadows of something else half-seen between the passage of the lightning, a glimpse at some hell world none of them ever wanted to see for real.

The only thing that saved George was his quick backpedal. He had never seen such a look of rage on Percy's face, and his instinctive step back and stumbling over his own feet saved his life. Even sprawled out on the floor with a bruised tail-bone was better than letting that whatever hit him. He could feel the death on that spell and was only glad to still be alive.

"I am tired of playing your game!" Percy screamed. His face went red with rage and his hair prickled with static electricity, rising above his head in glistening, blood-hued strands. His hands clenched into tight fists and he glared at them all. "Let's finish this!"

It was with horror that they watched as his eyes turned solid black and his feet rose up off the floor. He hovered three feet in the air with blue-white bolts of electricity snapping the air around him. As the power pulled tighter around him, his flesh whitened to a velvet ivory and his shoulder length hair fell to frame his face, flattening out into perfect, untangled locks. He was more beautiful than he had ever been, but it was a terrible, killing beauty. There was no mercy in him.

He had fought for all of the years of his second life, and for years before that. He had killed the allies of his enemy and some of his own people that had been wrapped so tightly in pain that death was the only mercy left to them. He had stood silent and unmoved by the deaths of all of his friends, his family, everyone he had ever known or could know. He had stood with silent eyes as the human race was extinguished and only he was left behind. He did not think of the Enemy as being human, and soon he would die anyway.

This last cruelty was one trick too many. He could not take anymore, would not take anymore.

"I am the God of Fire and Death," he said, his voice ringing throughout the hall with a terrible clarity, echoing off the high ceilings. "I am the Scythe of Heaven, born to bring down ruin on my enemies. I am the Weapon. As the last Holder of the Key, I trigger my own vengeance. I end this now."

The building began to rumble and the floor rippled with visible waves. Fred and George grabbed and leaned against each other to stay upright, while the others stumbled and fell to their knees, their faces wincing with pain and fear. They didn't know what Percy was going to do, but they knew it was bad.

For himself, Percy was tired of all the hiding and games. He was tired of always having to play by the rules the Enemy had set. It was his turn to do what he wanted, his turn to cause pain.

Within him had been built a gateway to great power. It was like flipping a switch to let the power flood into him until that was all there was. He had been empty for so long, ever since he had woken naked on that table, paralyzed and afraid of what was going to happen. He had been empty, but when he opened himself to it, he could fill himself with more power than any human body ever should have been able to hold.

In death he had been remade into something inhuman. He was the Weapon.

Power crackled over his skin and he could feel the living energy that flowed through the earth, feeding him. He was strong enough to destroy the world. It was a beautiful feeling.

For decades he had allowed the Enemy to taunt and torment him. Without anyone to give him the order to just destroy the Enemy, he had been forced to endure his presence. But things were different now.

To take on the face of Percy's brothers and create simulacrum of his friends, that was a step beyond what could be allowed. It was time to show the Enemy what it meant to deal with a Weapon for the Good.

"I will kill you, Voldemort," he hissed, his voice ringing through the sudden stillness. There was very little sanity left in it. All he could see was his Enemy, all he could feel was his hate.

"Holy shit!" Fred whispered, clutching his twin tighter. They had been born together, and now they were going to die together, at the hand of their older brother.

The solid black of Percy's eyes swirled with the light of a thousand stars. Words began whispering from his lips, gaining volume with each passing second until they reverberated off the high ceilings of the Great Hall. His voice rang out clear, but the words he spoke were somehow garbled, ugly sounding and fearful. Those listening had to cover their ears as the terrible words tried to drill their way into their brains. To listen to what Percy said in the hopes of attaining understanding was to seek insanity... to decipher the words would be to give up on everything that came before, because only the words would be left.

The ground shook and the lights flickered and dimmed. Deadly power filled the room.

Finally, it was all going to be over. Percy would defeat the Enemy and finally be able to rest. Either that or he would lose and would have his final peace at last. He could only hope to never have to open his eyes again, to finally be able to let this nightmare existence go.

But as the power thrummed through him and he began the long, dark spell, there was a voice in his head screaming "Wait a minute! Something's not right. Think about this!" It was an oddly familiar voice, though he couldn't stand to put a name to it. The pain was still too fresh, even after all these years.

Standing on the precipice of total destruction, Percy paused and pulled back.

He stepped down out of the air, letting his feet touch the solid ground. With gliding footsteps, he approached the cowering group. His nostrils flared as he smelled the air and his fingers felt the reality of their flesh when he reached out and prodded George's side. "You're not an illusion," he said, his voice cracking a little with the strain of normal speech. It had been so long since he had faced a normal human--the Enemy didn't count.

"Of course I'm not a bloody illusion," George rasped out. He had been so scared, and now Percy was acting just like the prat he'd always been. "What the bloody hell's happened to you, Percy? One little spell and five minutes later you're trying to kill everybody. What's going on?"

"I don't know," Percy's voice wavered, the blackness slipping from his eyes as he spoke. "Is this real? Am I dreaming again? Is this some new attack? Are you really my brother George?"

"Of course I'm your brother George, who else am I supposed to be?" George shouted. "You scared the bloody piss out of me Percy! What's going on?"

"I don't know anymore," Percy whispered, stepping back, turning away. His shoulders shook, but no tears would fall. Even the ability to grieve had been taken away from him. He was the Weapon, and weapons don't cry, not even when they're hurting so bad inside that it's like an open wound being rubbed raw by reality. Bad things happen and crying won't make them any better, that's what he'd been told, what he'd learned through all the pain and blood.

"What did you do to me?" he asked. "How did I get here?"

"What are you talking about?" Fred demanded. He was starting to get angry. Percy had scared the hell out of him. "You've been here the whole time!"

"But..." Percy raised his hand to his mouth, gnawing on his knuckles. "I was in the Ruins. I felt the magic touch me and I got sucked in. None of this can be real, it can't be. This is just some spell, a trick to fool me, to make me lower my defenses. I won't be fooled. I can't be fooled. I want it so much... but I can't!"

"Stop that right now, Mr. Weasley!" Snape stomped forward, ripping Percy's hand away from his mouth. "Look at that, you're bleeding now."

Percy glanced down at his hand disinterestedly. He watched as the silver sparkles shimmered across his skin and the wounds healed themselves instantly. "Pain doesn't last," he whispered. "Nothing lasts. This is just a dream. I'll wake up, and none of this is real. It's never real."

He wrapped his arms around himself and backed away from them all. He looked like he was going to fade away at any moment. He was just going to disappear and none of them were ever going to see him again.

Not even knowing he was going to do it, George leapt forward and grabbed Percy by the shoulders, jerking him close against him, chest to chest. He pressed his forehead against his older brother's and stared into Percy's eyes from barely an inch away.

It had been a long time since they'd been this close, not since he was a little boy and Percy had become his priggish older brother. He hadn't seen Percy's eyes from this close in what felt like forever. He had never noticed the gray flecks in Percy's hazel eyes before; it was something strange and new.

"This is the real world, Percy," he rasped. "I don't know what's going on with you, and frankly, I don't fucking care. You're my brother, I'm your brother, and this isn't some fucking dream you're having. I don't know where all the weird powers are coming from with you, but I am standing right here and I am not moving a foot until you realize that I am George Weasley, your brother, and you are Percival Weasley, my brother. Do you understand me, Percy? Do you?"

Percy just looked at him. "It feels so real, and I want it to be so much. But... it's never been real before. You all left me alone. If I make this real, will you just leave me again? I don't want to be by myself." He sounded like a child, and it was painful to hear. Percy wasn't supposed to sound like that, not ever.

"You're not," George said. "We're right here with you, and we're not going to leave you, not ever."

Percy made a breathy sound and threw himself against George, wrapping his arms tight around him, burying his face against George's neck. "Never leave, never leave, never leave, never..." he just kept repeating as George held him, eventually striking up the courage to stroke his older brother's back in comforting waves.

"It's all right now, Percy. It's all, all right."


	3. Chapter Three

It hadn't taken as much effort to get Percy to the infirmary as George had feared. After his moment of... insanity, Percy was strangely compliant, walking where he was told to walk, not really saying anything. It was actually rather eerie how quiet Percy could be, and it wasn't just the fact that his footsteps were utterly silent against the stone floors.

Sure, Percy wasn't usually the most talkative person around, but he did have an opinion about nearly everything. And even though he'd been trying hard to stop himself from being such a complete arsehole, he was still Percy. Only now he was acting all funny and being around him gave George a strange feeling in his belly.

I've never been afraid of Percy before, George thought, so why am I afraid now? There was no answer.

Sitting on a patented Hogwarts infirmary bed--narrow, vaguely uncomfortable, covered in thin sheets and a scratchy blanket--dressed in a pair of too-large cotton pajamas with the pant legs rolled up, Percy looked smaller than usual. He looked about twelve years old until you met his eyes, then he looked ancient--old and tired.

Percy sat on the bed with his legs drawn up tight against him, his chin digging into his knees. He chewed on the fingers of his left hand with a nervous zeal that should have had blood spraying everywhere. He seemed to see everything going on around him, even when he didn't turn his head to look.

"Where... where are you from, Mr. Weasley?" Snape asked.

George had to wonder why Dumbledore was letting the most hard-arsed teacher at Hogwarts ask the questions. Strangely, though, Percy actually seemed to respond favorably to the questioning by the complete arse-face.

"I live in the Ruins now," Percy said. "Nowhere else is livable. Even the Enemy is slowly being worn down at the place where he lives, dying bit by bit with each day he stays there."

"What are the Ruins?" Fred asked.

Percy shrugged. "Here are the Ruins, what's left of Hogwarts. The stones hold a partial protection in them already, and I make sure they're safer, plus Professor Sprout's greenhouses still let me grow food in them. The Enemy is starving." A cruel smile tugged his lips. "He's so hungry that I can hear him howling at night, cursing me with every breath, hating me as much as I hate him. He has won the battle, but I will win the war, and he knows it."

"How... what happened to Hogwarts?" George asked.

Percy shrugged. "The same thing that happened to everywhere else. Voldemort rose. The world fell." His lips twitched and his hands twisted together nervously. "The ones I feel sorry for are all the muggles who died without knowing why it happened. They burned, writhed, melted and gasped out their last all without knowing why they were dying. At least members of the wizarding world knew why they were dying and who to hate and blame. Not that it made them feel any better at the end."

"What happened to Percy... our Percy?" Ginny asked, sounding like she was about to cry. She was still only sixteen years old, just a girl, and even George was feeling like he was about to fall apart so he could understand her excess of emotion.

"He's probably already dead or dying," Percy said without a single blink. "He's probably lying at the feet of Voldemort right this minute. He was too soft. He could never stand against Voldemort and win. He is dead already. Forget about him."

"How can you not care about him?" Ron demanded, pushing forward. "He's you."

Percy shrugged like it didn't matter. "He's not me, I'm me. He's just the person I used to be a long time ago. Besides, it's too late for him by now. The Enemy would have felt the sudden weakness in the shields around the Ruins and he wouldn't have hesitated a second to destroy him. He was weak."

"Does this mean we're never getting Percy back?" Ginny asked, disbelievingly. She leaned her forehead against Ron's chest. "Percy's gone forever?"

Percy cocked his head. "Yes. He was weak and Voldemort is stronger than he is in this time period. We were barely holding even as it is, and my younger self was a weakling before I became a Weapon."

"A weapon? What are you talking about?" Fred asked.

"You were babbling about weapons before, too," George said. "What's happened to you, Perce, really?"

Percy looked at them all, his eyes mirror-like, reflecting back nothing real. "I died and was reborn. The old Percy Weasley was killed, but I was not allowed to lie fallow in my grave. I was brought back to be a tool in the war against Voldemort and his followers." A grim smile twisted his lips. It was horrible to see on such an almost-pretty face. "I served my purpose well, and all of the Dark Lord's followers tasted my wrath until only he was left hiding like a rat in a hole, waiting for me to kill him."

"But our Percy... what happens to him?" Ginny asked again.

There was a tiny glimpse of sadness in Percy's glance at Ginny, but it didn't last long enough to really see. "Your Percy is a child that has never tasted true hardship. He does not have the power to face even the Voldemort of this time. The moment the Enemy realizes how flimsy his defenses are, Percy will fall before him. It should not take very long at all."

George felt his heart sink down into his stomach where it burned painfully. He had done this. He had helped to kill his big brother, and in return he got this stranger to replace him.

Percy had never really been one of his favorite people, but they were still brothers and that had to mean something. They shared the same blood, and to George family was an important thing.

The way he saw it, it was his job to make Percy's life a living hell and finally get him to relax a little. But if anyone else messed with Percy... well, anyone that wasn't on the list of people George called either family or friends was going to be wishing they were dead by the time George was done with him if they messed with Percy.

Poor, rule following, straitlaced Percy who he had just consigned to death or maybe even a fate worse than death. He didn't know what to do.

"Please tell me this isn't real," he murmured, not really expecting an answer from anyone.

"Of course it's real," the strange Percy said. "It's always real, even when you want more than anything for it not to be. It's only when you start doubting the veracity of reality itself that you have to realize that you've completely lost what little mind you once might have possessed.

"I remember the first time I went mad. It was almost a comfort to escape from all of the bad things in my life happening at the time. Nothing really seemed to matter and everything just suddenly seemed so easy."

"I don't think he ever came back," Ron said sotto voce. He yelped when Fred reached back to swat him on the back of his head.

"How did you come here?" George asked.

Percy shrugged. "Strange things happen all the time. Something pulled me back through time, but I don't know what it was."

"How can you not even care that Percy is trapped in the future being killed by You-Know-Who?" Ginny demanded, pulling away from Ron. Her face was tear-streaked and she looked as though she had suffered the emotional impact of having the world fall in on her.

Percy shrugged. "I can't do anything for him. I'm not there; he is." It was as simple as thought.

We did this, George thought with a sudden flash of horror. He backed up into Fred's arms. "The potion," he whispered.

Fred's face drained of color, making his freckles stand out starkly. "You think?"

"I know," George said.

"We did this." Tears shimmered in Fred's eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Percy asked, looking directly at them. George shuddered at being the focus of those shallow pools. There was nothing of his brother in that gaze, just the weight and tiredness of someone that had seen too much violence and death.

"It was our fault that you were brought here," George rasped. His throat felt dry and his eyes burned. "We created a fifty year aging potion that was supposed to show how you're going to look in fifty years. None of this was supposed to happen, I swear."

A grim smile tugged at Percy's lips and his eyes sparkled with an unholy kind of glee. "I think I know what potion you used. It was a physical warping potion, but the spell you had to tie into it to make it work is a mental warping one. If you cast the spell correctly during the brewing process, which it appears you have, the potion becomes extremely effective. It doesn't just age the recipient fifty years, it pulls all the memories of the future version into his past self. It was supposed to enable the user a glimpse at their future so he could decide if there was anything he wanted to change about himself."

"If you're Percy in fifty years, why are you so young?" Ron asked. "You only look a couple of years older than our Percy, if that."

Percy looked at the twins. "That was your mistake. You were trying to turn your Percy into his future self, but what you couldn't know was that I died when I was twenty-seven years old and was brought back. Death changes a person's magic beyond all reckoning, which is why the Enemy has always been so hard to face. I never physically aged the fifty years your potion called for, and my magic fought back against what it saw as an enemy assault and warped your spell, which brought me here, and sent your Percy into my world.

"I very much doubt that your Percy will ever be able to come back, even if the potion wore off and the spell ended. My magic has changed what you've done." There was a flash of something almost like sadness across his face, but it was gone too fast to tell. "There is nothing even I can do to change things back. It's already too late."

George felt as if something was breaking inside him. He thought that maybe he was about to collapse to his knees, when a hard hand clamped down on his shoulder. He turned his head to look at Snape.

"Show me the potion and spell you used," the Potion Master demanded.

George dumbly nodded, leaning further into Fred's arms. His twin tightened his grip, holding him closer to his heart.

It was only when they were this close together that George ever felt truly safe. It made him think that he could almost remember them wrapped tight together in the womb, their entire world the beating of each others' heart.

From their first breaths, the twins had always known that they weren't alone. They always had each other to play with even when the rest of the world was busy elsewhere. They were safe together and no one could ever take that away from them, even when they messed up so badly with their pranks that everyone turned against them.

With Fred's arms around him, George wondered for the first time if he deserved the comfort of that much loved presence. While they had each other and were safe, their brother Percy was dying alone on some horrible future world where everything was against them.

Tears filled George's eyes, but there was nothing he could do to make this better. They had really and truly fucked up this time, and he didn't think he could ever forgive himself, not even if everyone else did.

* * *

He could sense the pain radiating from the twins and a nearly forgotten part of him wanted to offer comfort, but there was nothing to do. He had forgotten all of the softer emotions. Life had pared him down until there was nothing but a blank hole inside him where a sensitive and caring man might once have lived. His heart had been ripped out of him months before he'd died.

The Infirmary door opened and Madame Pomfrey bustled back in, a forced cheerful expression on her face. "Well, it's time for you all to leave," she said.

"Please, Madame Pomfrey, can't we stay with him?" Ginny asked.

"I am sorry, Ms. Weasley," the nurse said. "I am going to have to check Mr. Weasley here over, and I think it would be best if you weren't all crowded around. Come back later and you can visit before bed."

Ginny was quietly crying as Ron pulled her out of the room. The twins trailed after them with many glances back over their shoulder at him.

"I'll report to the Headmaster," Snape said, stalking away.

Once the door was shut, Percy turned to face the mediwitch. "I am healthy," he said.

She laughed a little and shook her head, but there was very little humor in her. The events of the day were too terrible for even her cheerfulness to overcome. "There's always some patient that tries to get out of an examination by saying they're healthy. There was one wizard that was almost coughing up a lung, but still insisted that he was perfectly fine. You will be examined."

Percy sighed heavily, but conceded to her wishes. She would see soon that he was right. Nothing had been able to touch him from the time he became the Weapon. The magic that filled every particle of his being kept him at optimal health even while he scrabbled in the dirt for every bite of food he ate.

She would have to realize that he wasn't the Percy she remembered. They all would.


	4. Chapter Four

When the message came through the floo, Oliver felt as though his heart had fallen all the way down to his knees. He stumbled backward to slump limply into his lover's favorite chair; a forgotten book poked a sharp corner against his hipbone. He idly wondered if he was going to pass out. His pulse fluttered at his throat and he could barely breathe. Sweat sprouted on his suddenly pale skin.

He had always thought it was going to be him that would be badly hurt. Quidditch wasn't exactly the safest sport, and professional Quidditch was far beyond anything he'd experienced in school. So he'd known that a message would probably be sent about him someday saying that he'd taken a bad fall and was in hospital. Instead, something had happened to Percy.

"Oh great bleeding gods," he moaned, holding his hands against his chest, trying to push his heart back in.

With Percy's job, he was either very safe, or in so much danger that Oliver didn't even want to imagine it. The only reason a message would come about Percy was if Voldemort had acted, which meant bad things all around, and Percy was probably so badly hurt that permanent damage had been done.

Gathering himself together, Oliver pulled himself up out of the chair and hurried to the bed to fumble around under it for a moment, finding his shoes.

It took him three tries to tie his shoes, but he finally managed. He grabbed his jacket and raced to the fireplace.

A handful of floo powder, with a good bit of it spilled on the carpet, and he was away to Hogwarts. It was only a few seconds before he was stepping out of the staff room fireplace. Professor McGonagall was waiting.

"Mr. Wood," she said in her usual stern voice, then her entire face softened and he felt a surge of terror go through him. The only reason the old battleaxe would wear an expression like that was if something... permanent had happened to his Percy. "I am so sorry."

"No," Oliver stated, shaking his head. Just "No."

Her hand fell on his shoulder and she led him out of the room. He stumbled along with her, feeling as though his head and body were floating about three feet apart from each other.

"W-where... where is he?" he stuttered.

Her fingers tightened on his shoulder for a second before releasing. "He is in the infirmary."

"So he's alive," Oliver said, feeling a surge of relief. As long as Percy was still breathing, everything was all right.

McGonagall gave him a sad look. She had been surprised to find out that Percy and Oliver were a couple, but she could see now how much Oliver loved Percy Weasley and it was hard being the bearer of bad news. "That’s... the twins were playing a prank and there was an incident. The Percy Weasley that you know was replaced with the one from fifty years in the future."

Oliver's feet almost went out from under him. "Wha... does that mean Percy's old now? Does he know me? Wh..."

"No, Mr. Wood... Oliver. The Percy from the future looks almost the same age as your Percy, but his personality and the experiences he's lived through are extremely different. I do not know the entire story, but from what I've heard, the future Percy has lived through has not exactly been a happy one, and it shows." She sighed heavily, an unhappy sound. "He is a different person from the one you know, Mr. Wood. I just wanted you to know that before you go in there."

Without even realizing it, Oliver had followed her to the infirmary door. She opened it and waved him in.

He stepped forward, glancing at her over his shoulder once before he went in. His stomach was a hard knot and he didn't know what he was going to see when he went into the room, and he was afraid, more afraid than he'd ever been in his life.

Percy was everything to him, more important than even quidditch, which was kind of strange, since he had never thought anyone could ever mean that much to him. But Percy did, and now something terrible had happened to Percy and he didn't want it to be permanent and true. He dreaded what he was going to find.

A surge of relief went through him when he saw the same Percy he loved sitting on a bed... then Percy looked up and saw him. Oliver shivered to see those eyes, recognizing nothing in them.

"Oliver?" Percy asked. "Is that really you?"

"Yes, it’s me," Oliver said. "I don't... what happened? Are you all right?"

Those cold-cold eyes suddenly filled with tears that overflowed to trickled down his cheeks. Percy raised a wondering hand to touch the wetness. "Strange. I haven't been able to cry in over twenty years. I thought they cut that ability out of me as a weakness." He focused on Oliver. "I don't think this is real, any of this. You're not really here. You're just a dream taunting me with what I can't have."

Oliver stepped closer to the bed. "Percy, it is me. It's Oliver. I'm here."

"I want you to be here so bad," Percy whispered, his voice hissing and cracking. "I was so alone when you... left. I begged them to bring you back to me, but they didn't want me to be happy because then I wouldn't fight how they wanted me to. They told me that misery feeds my power. It made me hate them until all the feelings in my chest dried up and I was left with nothing."

Oliver sobbed, unable to help himself. Something terrible had happened to Percy, and it was more than just the fact that a prank had gone wrong. Someone had purposely hurt Percy over and over again; Oliver could almost taste the torment in the air around Percy, and it turned his stomach to a hard lump inside him.

Standing close to the bed, Oliver reached out and grabbed Percy, dragging him against him. "It’s all right, it’s all right," he murmured, stroking the back of Percy's head. "I'm here, Percy, I'm here."

"Don’t leave me."

"Never. I'll never leave you, my love."

* * *

Minerva was filled with sadness watching the two young men embrace. She hadn't even known that they were together, but now that she did... it made the whole situation with Percy somehow worse.

It was obvious that they loved each other, but Percy wasn't the same man that Oliver had loved. He was a version of Percy from a bleak future where nothing had gone the way it should. It was tragic how much both men had lost in a few careless moments.

Not for the first time, Minerva cursed the Weasley twins in her mind. Most times they pursued harmless mischief, but when they truly screwed up, they went all the way. Percy was their victim this time, and what they had done to him she didn't have the first clue how to go about setting right. The damage had already been done.

I am very sorry, Mr. Weasley, but there is really nothing I can do for you, Minerva thought with a heavy sigh, leaning her head against the wall for a moment before pulling herself together and walking on. No one was going to pass by and see her beginning to fray around the edges.

She had never been overly fond of Percy, not really enjoying the company of someone so anal retentive, but she hadn't really disliked him either. He was just a boy that had tried a little too hard to please anyone in authority no matter how bad it made him look to the other people in his life.

What had happened to him was a terrible thing. His entire life had been stolen from him by members of his own family. It was a tragedy that could never be fixed because the original Percy was gone forever and only this version remained.

Damn those boys, she thought, cursing the twins once again.

* * *

Molly, Arthur, Bill, and Charlie all arrived at Hogwarts together. They had all met up at the Burrow first so Bill and Charlie could offer their parents whatever support they needed.

None of them were quite sure of what had happened, but they knew it had to do with Percy and something bad. So either he had made an ass of himself again... or something really wrong had happened to him.

Molly was already tense-shouldered and red-eyed by the time they stepped out of the floo at Hogwarts.

She had been angry at him for the longest time, but even when her rage burned the hottest, he had still been her son and she had worried about him. Now that they had finally reunited, she couldn't bear the thought of losing him again, not this way.

"What has happened to Percy?" Arthur asked the waiting Headmaster.

Dumbledore looked serious, the sparkle gone entirely from his eyes. "There was an accident. The twins... they were playing a prank but the potion they used had a strange reaction on Percy. The Percy from fifty years in the future was brought back in time, and he is nothing like anyone would expect."

"What... what do you mean?" Molly asked, her voice shaking.

For a second she thought Dumbledore might be about to cry. "At some point in the future... Percy dies and is brought back to life with the use of some very powerful and Dark spells. He does not look much different from the Percy you know, but... You must be prepared for the changes he has gone through."

Molly raised her hands to her lips and bit the tips of her fingers hard enough to almost draw blood. She pressed herself against Arthur, accepting the comfort his arms offered. "Can... can we see him?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes, of course, but you must be prepared for the difference in Percy."

Holding Arthur's hand tightly, Molly followed the Headmaster to the Infirmary, where they found Professor McGonagall waiting outside the door with her arms crossed and a blank expression on her face.

"Why are you waiting out here, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked.

She sighed and shook her head mournfully. "Mr. Wood is in there with Mr. Weasley."

"Ah," Dumbledore said meaningfully.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Molly asked.

"Why would Oliver Wood's being in there mean that you would stay out?" Arthur asked curiously.

"You mean, you don't know?" McGonagall asked in surprise.

"Know what?" Arthur asked.

"Oh dear." McGonagall patted her hair nervously and wouldn't meet their eyes. For such a stern and direct woman to suddenly look so anxious was a little suspicious.

"I didn't know that Percy had had any contact with Oliver since graduation, so why would Oliver Wood be here now?" Molly said.

"Minerva?" Dumbledore said questioningly.

She drew in a deep breath and looked directly at Molly and Arthur. "It appears that Mr. Wood is Percy's... significant other."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked.

"Oliver Wood and Percy are lovers. When I looked up Percy's contact information, I found out that he and Mr. Wood are living together. They have a little flat in England."

"You can't be serious," Arthur said. "Why wouldn't Percy have told us something like that? Something so important to his life?"

"It is the truth," McGonagall said, unable to meet the man's eyes. There was just so much pain in his eyes as he realized that his son was even more of a stranger than he had ever thought.

"Percy... and Oliver Wood?" Molly pressed her fingers against her mouth to still the trembling of her lips and get her bearings. "He... why wouldn't Percy tell me? I'm his mother. He... he tells me everything."

"Not always," Arthur said, giving her a meaningful look.

Molly's shoulder's sunk and she looked as though her middle son had once again broken her heart with his betrayal.

McGonagall had to fight down the urge to shake Molly Weasley. The woman was acting as though Percy had purposely gone out of his way to hurt her, as though this was some kind of plan of his or something. She wasn't thinking about the fact that a horribly life-altering event had changed him, perhaps irrevocably into a frightening stranger. All she was thinking about was herself.

"There are bigger concerns than Percy's relationship with Mr. Wood," Dumbledore said. "Your son needs the support of his family to get him through what is to come and you cannot be so busy castigating him that its to the detriment of his eventual well being."

Molly looked at him in surprise. Dumbledore had never sounded like that to her. Kind, generous, foolish, yes, but hardly ever intelligent or wise.

Arthur wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulder. "Let us see our son," he said, his voice oddly steady.

Dumbledore just looked at them for a long moment, then nodded, gesturing McGonagall out of the way.

She wasn't sure that it was the best idea to let them into the infirmary room, but the look on Dumbledore's face didn't invite objections. She pushed open the door and stepped to one side just inside the room.

Oliver was the first one they saw, kneeling on the cot with his arms wrapped tightly around Percy. But when he turned to look over his shoulder, Percy was revealed. All pale skin, dark red hair and frightening eyes.

The minute those eyes saw Arthur, that pale mouth opened and a terrified shriek filled the air. Percy threw himself out of Oliver's arms and scuttled across the floor, all the time his voice spiraling upward in a shrill scream that had everyone else covering their ears to try and block it out.

 


End file.
